Alone in an alleyway sat a boy no older than 15, his frame shaking and shuddering. The cold gripped his bones in a chill that felt unnatural.
His breathing came out in gasps and splutters of anxiety. Fear was closing down on him, curling its wretched fingers and digging them into every being
of the boy's body. The scent of trash filled his nostrils with an overwhelming stench, tempting him to choke. His usually smooth face was battered
and beaten. Bruises danced across his cheeks in a sickening black and blue, clearly made by a fist. A swollen black eyelid was puffed out against his
deep green eyes. Blood was caked in his cropped, dirty blonde hair. Every inch of his body was blistering in pain.
The sound of approaching foot steps, stomped hard on the concrete below, caught the boy's attention. With dread clawing at his stomach, he turned to face
the center of all his problems.
"Dean-o," a malicious voice echoed in the boy's ears. He wanted to be someplace else, anywhere but stuck in an alley with the one person who knew no
mercy. Gabriel rounded the corner in a confident stride. His hair was the color of wheat against the sun at noon, slicked back from his face.
Mischevious eyes, the color of sticky honey, shone bright against the shadows. Although he was shorter than most, he was a sight to behold. Gabriel
wore a dark green jacket that hugged his body, keeping the slight breeze away. His dark blue jeans were tucked into his tan, tattered boots. The way
he chewed his sickly sweet bubblegum could be heard from a mile away. Gabriel blew a bright pink bubble, the "Pop" of it ringing in Dean's ears.
"There you are," Gabriel chirped. "I had thought I'd lost you for a minute there." Dean cowered under the older boy's gaze. Another "Pop" could be heard
from his bubblegum. Deciding to gather the little courage left within him, Dean spoke up.
"What do you want, G-Gabriel?" Dean cursed himself at the small stutter he had made.
"I think you already know the answer to that," the older one snorted, as if the reason behind his motives were obvious. "You borrowed money from me and
I fully intend to collect my payment." The younger one sucked in a breath noisily, heart pounding in his ears.
"I... I don't have the money yet," Dean stammered. Gabriel shook his head and dragged his lip out in a sort of pout.
"Well, now that won't do. You know the rules, Dean-o. You've got to pay me something." Dean quivered as he tried to think of anything, anything at all,
that had value. His father was already struggling with financials, barely able to afford food. Being the older sibling, Dean wasn't yet able to get a
job which meant that only John was able to pay bills with his earnings.
Just a few weeks ago had been his younger brother's, Sam, birthday. He had wanted to get his little Sammy something special and not another lame
homemade gift.
"I'm tired of not getting real presents for my birthday," Sam had cried. "All the other kids have really cool stuff that they bring to school. Even
Ruby has things! Why can't Dad afford nice things?" Dean couldn't believe how selfish his brother was being, but then he remembered that Sammy was
just a kid. He didn't understand the same things that Dean did. His little brother didn't know how hard it was for their dad. He didn't have
the slightest clue.
"I know you deserve a real present Sammy, more than anyone. But Dad can't afford the things that other kids have," Dean had tried to explain, but
it was a lost cause.
"Dad works all the time and he's barely home. He has to have enough money to buy anything," Sam had protested.
"Tell you what, this year I'll get you a real present."
"Do you really mean it, Dean," the younger one shouted excitedly. Seeing his little brother so happy, Dean just couldn't bring himself to say no.
"Of course," he had reassured Sam.
And now here he was, beaten and broken in a dark alley with the person he had borrowed money from. There wasn't much to his name but a few worthless
pennies. He realized with dread that he would never be able to pay off Gabriel's debt even if he had a job.
"I don't have anything." Hearing these words, Gabriel's expression shifted. His pout turned into a wide grin like a shark closing in on its prey.
Dean's heart hammered so loud in his chest that he swore the older boy could hear it thumping away. He began to feel a wave of nausea wash over him.
"Well isn't that just a let-down," he drawled in a sing-song voice. "I didn't want it to have to come to this, but there's a lesson that needs to be
learned here, Dean-o." He blew out one more bubble and with a "Pop." He reached into his pocket, clasped tightly in his hand was a pocket knife, tip
pointed directly at Dean. At that moment, everything seemed to switch into a sort of slow motion.
Gabriel lunged forward, the blade of his knife glinting in the small beams of moonlight. Before he knew it, Dean had drawn out his hand-held gun
from his jacket pocket and expertly aimed it right at his attacker. He had never used the gun before, he didn't even like looking at it. The
weapon was to be used only in life-or-death situations, which this certainly fell under. Not having time to even process his actions, Dean
pulled the cool metal of the trigger.
The older boy fell at an awkward angle, twisting his leg. However he was already numb with the pain that exploded his chest.
The younger one could do nothing but watch as he heard a soft sound, so soft he could barely make it out. Gabriel's leg snapping with a
"Pop."